Page 49 of Mister Hockey
“You’rea hockey fan.” A muscle she’d never seen before ticked right where his lower jaw hinged to the upper one.
“I mean, like I said before, my whole family is—”
“You conveniently left yourself out of that equation,” he said tonelessly.
She swallowed hard, because he wasn’t wrong, but she didn’t have the first clue how to make her omission less creepy. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.
“You look confused.” His eyes glittered. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I get it. I’m confused too. Confused why the fuck there is also a life-size cardboard cutout of me in your closet, Breezy. And a poster. And a bunch of other stuff with my face stamped on it.”
Oh God. He found her hidden trove of Westy paraphernalia. He must think she was like Blackbeard or something.
“I can explain.” Her heart beat so hard that her vision was pulsing. “I can explain everything.”
“Nah, don’t bother.” He held up a hand. “I was in your room, talking to my agent, and then my coach, about the fact thatsomeoneleaked the fact that I’m considering retirement. That I have a head injury and that it’s caused problems. But the thing that I’m blindingly aware of is that the only person that I talked about this with was you.”
“Wait...” Her brain tried to grasp what he was saying. “You think that I...” She licked her dry lips and tried again. “You think that I went to the press?”
As if on cue, her front door banged open and Neve burst in, her normally sleek ponytail gathered into an unruly messy bun. “Why aren’t you answering your phone? I swear to God, I leave town to cover a few measly basketball games and everything goes to hell in a handbasket. What are you doing, Westy? First, my mom fills me that it’s my little sister, then an hour ago all Twitter was in on the gig. Now, there’s a shit storm brewing online with your name in the eye of.” Her brow crinkled. “Is it true that you’re retiring? Or is this one of those tempest-in-a-teapot rumors?”
“Don’t know.” Jed stared straight ahead. His phone rang again.
“You want to answer that?” Neve quizzed.
Jed shook his head. “It’s my publicist again. I don’t want to talk to her.”
Breezy bit the inside of her cheek. He wasn’t even looking at her. The fact he knew about her fandom hidden in her closet was bad, but worse was not being entirely sure what disaster was about to come crashing down on their heads. Her tummy picked up on seismic shifts below the surface. The only question was how bad the earthquake was going to be, how much damage would occur.
“Ha.” His unexpected laugh came out a sharp bark. “I got to say, I’m impressed.” He gave a slow mocking clap. “You two should take this show on the road. The Angel Sisters, Live in Vegas.”
“Say what?” Neve gave him one of her “shut up and speak sense” glares.
Breezy sank into a chair, her fingers grasping the armrests as if that could somehow prevent her from plummeting into the Earth’s core. “You think I ratted you out, don’t you?” She licked her lips, her heart beating so hard that it physically hurt. Her stomach protested. Threatened to be sick. “You think that I told your secrets to Neve.”
“Not at first.” Jed was granite. He’d turned to stone. His eyes were slits. No emotion registered on his face. No sign he was there at all. “But after what I found in your room. Tell me, how the hell am I supposed to believe anything from you? Was this all a lie? Something to brag about to your girlfriends? I mean, Christ, Breezy, what’s the matter with you?”
“Hang on.” Neve swiveled her head between them, like a spectator watching a tennis match. “I’m trying to play catch-up here, but you think my sister leaked me a tip? About what? The retirement? The head injury?”
“Everything.” His tone was clipped. Flat. Final. His head didn’t move even as his gaze swung to lock with hers.
“Stop, please, listen.” Breezy’s throat tightened. Words took effort to form. Her tongue was sluggish and clumsy. “I should have told you that I was your biggest fan. I mean, like... thebiggest. But I was afraid it would freak you out, that you would think that I was interested in what this was for all the wrong reasons.” Her voice cracked and it took her a moment to regain composure. “That I was wanting to be with you because who you represented, not who you actually were. But it wasn’t like that. It was never like that.”
“Hey, when all is said and done, I’m a simple guy. My world is black and white. And here’s what I see. A woman who keeps pictures of me at her work, and hidden in her goddamn closet. A woman who sleeps with me. Gets me talking. Has me sharing private stuff that I don’t tell anyone else in the world. Then she loses her job. Needs money. And check it out, she is sitting on one hell of a story scoop, one that she could cash in on.” He gave a mocking pump of the fist as if opening an imaginary cash register.
“You asshole.” Breezy’s world went red. There was a crack. When she blinked again, she was on her feet, her palm stinging, anger radiating off her like heat on a pavement.
“Fuck.” Jed clasped his jaw. “You slapped me.”
“And if you say another word about my sister, I swear to the old gods and the new that your ass will be on the ground.” Neve stepped to her sister’s side, linking her arm. “That head injury you’re apparently so worried about will feel like a tickle by the time I’m finished.”
The doorbell rang again. And again. And again.
This place was like Grand Central Station.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Neve groaned as a tall, blond man finally threw open the door, stood staring at them with impassive Scandinavian features.
Tor Gunnar.
Hellions coach.
